The Agent Test
by Cassandra Elise
Summary: A Fairy Tale, Avengers Style. It's Silly, Short and Sweet. UPDATED 8- 25- 03 FINALE After a long wait, everything gets resolved!
1. Once Upon a Time

Author's Note: This is a parody of the parody by Gail Carson Levine called, "The Princess Test." "The Princess Test," is the retelling of the classic fairy tale, "The Princess and the Pea." Here I've changed the characters from, "The Princess Test," into the Avengers. This is the lightest piece of Avengers work I've ever written. Feel free to laugh or smile at my silliness.  
  
The AVENGERS  
  
Once upon a time, in the distinguished country of Great Britain, Sir John and Mrs. Knight had a baby girl named Emma. Miss Emma was a beautiful child with big brown eyes and a winning smile. However, she only smiled seven times and laughed thrice. Then she started crying incessantly until she was three years old.  
  
She wailed if her food tasted the least bit suspicious, or if her mother strapped her into her little swing too tightly. She sobbed if her mother or father conspicuously reached for the pockets to remove an object. She cried every time she heard a gunshot, unless she was certain it was Sir John hunting with his comrades. She was petrified if she witnessed the cook chopping the veggies and meat with a large butcher knife that could only mean mortal danger if his fingers were caught under its sharp blade.  
  
The first several months, Sir John and Mrs. Knight had no idea why their cute child was so clamorous. They began to pay heed to her weeping and discovered that she was merely concerned for their and her own welfare. This pleased the ignorant parents, who decided that all babies must be as considerate and intelligent as Emma.  
  
When she was a toddler, first learning the English language, Emma began to specify what exactly was disturbing her. By the time she was eight, she was able to sincerely apologise for her outrageous behaviour. "Mother, Father, I know when I was a baby I was very naughty, crying over silly matters. But I promise to be more grownup from now on and won't complain if my porridge happens to taste like poison or if-"  
  
"Dear, we never said that you were a nuisance!" interrupted Mrs. Knight soothingly.  
  
"We thought you were an exceedingly smart little girl," Sir John agreed. "Does that help you feel better, darling?"  
  
"Yes, but I have one question," began the solemn child. "What does ex-ceed-ing-ly mean?"  
  
Emma excelled in her school studies, gaining the reputation of being the "teacher's pet." Despite her intellect, she differed from her other clever classmates, particularly the girls. While most girls were fond of dress up and playing with dolls, Emma preferred romping through the woods examining nature. Her dress up attire consisted of breeches, a sweater, and leather boots for her horseback riding lessons. When other young, wealthy ladies tried out for ballet and ballroom dancing, Emma practised her karate and kung fu.   
  
All girls knew how to play a musical instrument except Miss Knight. The only instrument she came close to was a science instrument for conducting a chemistry experiment. In order to stay healthy and robust, proper ladies were told to take afternoon promenades in the park. Emma agreed with being outdoors, but she learned how to use firearms rather than bother with a park. It was no surprise that she was labeled as "odd," but nothing daunted Miss Knight. Nothing, except losing the relatives she loved.  
  
When Emma was still a young schoolgirl, her mother passed away from undisclosed reasons. This was a melancholy time for the two remaining Knights, but they kept their propriety and serenity. It would not do to act otherwise! However, the loss of her mother was an acute pain that could not be hidden entirely.  
  
Tragedy struck again when Sir John suddenly died when Emma was twenty-one. She took over his business until she fell in love with Peter Peel the pilot. The two married shortly thereafter, and Mrs. Peel, nee Knight, gained a mother figure in the form of Trudy Peel.  
  
Trudy hid her ruthlessness and manipulations under a veneer of good manners for her daughter-in-law. She thought Emma was a pampered snob with no more common sense than a goose. Trudy had only approved the marriage for the ample dowry it provided. Thus Trudy began to plot Mrs. Peel's demise, not aware of how incredibly smart and strong the young woman really was.  
  
The Agent Test  
  
Chapter One  
  
"Emma, where are you my sweet cakes?" called Trudy. She knew her spoiled daughter was up a tree, chewing complacently on an apple and reading The Mysterious World of the Atom. Mrs. Trudy Peel had many massive oaks on her extensive farm. The moment Emma had laid eyes on the quaint land, she had claimed the largest tree her own.  
  
There she spent many days, reading science books or the stock section in the newspaper. She never grew tired of staring at the rolling acres of green, fertile pastures. Sometimes Emma wished she could spend eternity on her mother-in-law's property, instead of just the summer.  
  
"Emma Peel, you get down here this instance, or I'll tell your husband that you're not home!" cried Trudy in exasperation.  
  
Peter was home from his test-piloting excursion? Mrs. Emma Peel scrambled down from the tree and raced to the house in record time. It was only when she had spotted her husband that she remembered her white boots were still underneath the oak tree. Barefoot but still elegant, she approached Peter Peel.  
  
Pilot Peter scrutinised her slender frame, which was outlined by an attractive stretch suit of white material. "Hello, my dear, how are you?"  
  
"Ask me later." Emma swung her arms around him in a fervid embrace.  
  
Trudy smiled sweetly, but inwardly she glowered at this blatant display of emotions. What did her simple-minded son see in that skinny woman? Aloud, she said, "Peter, I'd like to speak to you-alone."  
  
Peter kissed his bride on the forehead and accompanied his mother to the far side of the cabbage patch. Emma gazed interestedly at them but decided not to provoke her irascible mother-in-law by following. She strained her ears to catch the dialogue but heard nothing.  
  
"Son, I wish you'd get rid of that strange, saucy girl. I know she has plenty of money, so perhaps when the divorce is finalised you will be able to own half of her inheritance."  
  
"Mama, I love Emma very much and will not hear of such barbarous notions."  
  
"But I already have the divorce papers with me!" protested Trudy Peel, as she went to retrieve a file from her jacket pocket.  
  
Emma's instincts went rampant at the slight movement, and before she could comprehend what had possessed her, she had leapt over numerous heads of cabbage and flipped Mrs. Trudy onto the ground. With equal malice, she placed her barefoot on the unsuspecting Mother Peel. "What were you going to do to Peter?" Emma demanded.  
  
"You see why I want-" Mrs. Trudy Peel stopped in mid-sentence.  
  
"Emma dearest, you must control these wild bursts of . . . madness," Peter began. "For as long as I've known you, every time a person simply appears distrustful, you've bounced on them like they were hired assassins! You're not a bodyguard or spy, you know."  
  
"I don't why, but I become so cautious when a person behaves abnormally." The word was clearly an indication of what Mrs. Peel thought of her surrogate, mother. "Sometimes I wish I was a secret agent," she muttered to herself.  
  
Peter helped his mother to her feet and then said, "I love you both very much, and while I'm testing a new plane over the next several days, I would like you to get along with each other."  
  
"You're leaving again?" Emma exclaimed incredulously.  
  
"It's a good job, my love, that will pay us a lot of money."  
  
"We don't need money, Peter! I have a rather large inheritance."  
  
Trudy spoke up in agreement, "That's right, she does!" The two women glared uncivilly at each other.  
  
The women's convincing had no affect on the impetuous and adventurous lad. He swiftly packed the necessary items in a small suitcase, and bid farewell to his wife and mother. It was the last time they ever saw him.  
  
A week later, Emma received the news that his plane had gone down in the Amazon jungle; there were no survivors. She mourned his lost like any diligent wife, wondering who had wanted him dead. Little did she realise that Trudy Peel blamed her for Peter's death, and that she was already plotting a way to kill Emma.  
  
Chapter Two  
  
In an old mansion impossible to find unless you were given instructions by the owners, the leaders of a secret organisation were conversing with the most famous agent in England. No, it wasn't James Bond; it was John Steed.   
  
"Now that Mrs. Gale has left your partnership, you must find a new associate," began the more veteran leader, Charles.  
  
"Since you had such a jolly good relationship with a woman, we're granting you permission to choose another female partner," added Mother, the inexperienced boss.   
  
"Thank you, when I've found a woman to equal Cathy Gale's fine qualities, I will tell you," Steed began.  
  
"No, you must choose a professional agent for your partner!" Charles objected.  
  
"Only then will we be fully confident that she can do the job correctly," Mother interjected.  
  
"Why can't I just train her as I did Mrs. Gale?" Steed insisted.  
  
"Mrs. Gale is one in a million; you will never find another amateur as talented as she," Charles explained pragmatically.  
  
"Therefore, we have designed a series of tests to find the perfect professional spy for you," Mother told the dubious Steed. "We will invite beautiful female agents from all over the world to compete in these tests. Whoever passes all eight will be your next partner in crime-fighting."  
  
"Is that not a splendid proposition?" Charles asked egotistically.  
  
Steed didn't want to offend his superiors, so he merely nodded his head; but inside, he was a jumble of emotions. Was there only one talented amateur in the world? If so, how would any of the real agents pass a series of bizarre tests?  
  
Wanting to get away from his eccentric bosses, Steed decided to go on a horseback ride through the beautiful countryside. He saddled up a feisty mare, a robust chestnut. In a short while, his horse was trotting down the weathered paths to nowhere.   
  
In fifteen minutes, the mare had arrived at an impressive farm. The soil was lush and fertile, the grass and plants were green, and the wooden fence that separated the farmland from the surrounding forest and horse paths was painted a sparkling white. Steed urged his horse with a light flick of the reigns to turn around, but instead the chestnut energetically galloped ahead and barely made it over the fence.  
  
Thrown from his horse, Steed lost consciousness. When he revived, a woman in a neon pink catsuit with two silver stripes down the side, was bent over him. She had a small belt of a lighter pink resting on her waist. A small silver trinket shaped like a diamond dangled from the middle of the belt. The woman had large, brown eyes, an irresistible mouth, and gorgeous auburn hair.  
  
"Am I in heaven?" Steed mumbled groggily as he tried to sit up.  
  
"No, you're in the middle of Mrs. Trudy Peel's corn field." The woman gently pushed him back down. "You need to rest; I'm afraid you have a concussion."  
  
"Oh, is that all?" Steed joked. Then he remembered what she had said. "Are you Mrs. Trudy Peel?" he asked disappointedly.  
  
"I'm her daughter-in-law, Emma."  
  
Dejected, Steed frowned slightly and closed his eyes. Mr. Peel's a lucky man, he thought ruefully. Suddenly, his eyes popped open as he inquired, "Where is my dear girl, Abby-my horse," he hastily added.   
  
"I led her to the pasture to graze." Emma smiled wryly as she continued, "Now she has found paradise."  
  
John Steed didn't want her to stop talking. He loved hearing her dulcet and intoxicating voice rippling through his ears. He loved her full lips moving as she spoke distinctly, making one dry remark after another. He pretended to be weak, to not be able to move. As he hoped, Emma Peel stayed by his side to entertain him and to make certain he did not lapse into unconsciousness again.  
  
She spoke about farm work, how she loved to ride horses, how she enjoyed reading physics books. She told him of her late father and how she had been the chairman of the board for a while. The two exchanged tips on hunting and self-defense. They discussed the opera, automobiles, champagne, and spying.  
  
Emma claimed that she sometimes suspected she should have been a secret agent for a living. John was beginning to whole-heartedly believe her. Finally, he admitted that he was well enough to stand. Mrs. Emma offered to drive him home, but he hurriedly refused.  
  
She couldn't know about the secret spy hideout-not yet anyway. Slowly he made his way down the worn path, guiding Abby the horse as he trudged along.  
  
Impulsively, Emma cried out, "I'm a widow." She should have seen Steed's smile; it stretched clear across his noble and handsome face.  
  
Mrs. Peel wondered why she had informed him of being a widow. She was still mourning Peter's death; so trying to encourage a man was futile. However, as she walked back to the farmhouse, her mind kept wandering to the stately and mischievous man named Steed. He had made several naughty but delightful comments, like the one . . .  
  
"Stop it Emma Peel!" she ejaculated. "You have no time for romance." She quickly sobered before going to face Trudy, the old witch.  
  
~*~ To Be Continued ~*~ 


	2. Let the Tests Begin!

Chapter Three  
  
The plans for the agent tests were completed the following morning. Since his superiors wanted his approval, Steed had to review the lists. There were eight tests in all, and he hated every single one, especially the last-the test that would decide who was a real spy.  
  
"All I want is Emma Peel," he muttered to himself as he passed the plans back to Mother and Charles' eager hands. Aloud, he said, "The tests are fine," and he gave one of his false smiles.  
  
An interesting idea occurred to him. "Hey, can't the ladies cheat on the tests? They could practise at home, and when they arrive they will ace through all of them."  
  
"They don't even know there's going to be a series of tests!" Mother crowed.  
  
"They just think that we're going to examine them for a day, and you are going to choose one of them at the end!" Charles.   
  
Mother added, "By the time they realise they're being tested, all they can do is wait for the next one."  
  
"But the tests will be so subtle, the women won't know what is a test and what isn't," Charles finished.  
  
John Steed's superiors had thought of everything, curse them.  
  
In order to get to the special headquarters, maps were sent out to all the eligible lady spies. There was always a chance an enemy agent would get hold of a map, but this did not concern the unflappable Mother and Charles. They had full confidence that they would spot an impostor the second she arrived. Steed was not convinced of their great powers of perception.  
  
A day before the lady secret agents were supposed to arrive at the estate, a black Mercedes pulled up in the drive. Steed had been fixing his tie in his room upstairs and noticed through his window that the car had arrived. Immediately, a sinking feeling filled his stomach. Everyone knew that evil agents rode black cars, while good spies drove most everything else.  
  
Slowly, he edged down the stairs where Mother and Charles were already waiting in the front hall. The woman burst in, her hair a flaming scarlet, her eyes emerald green, her teeth pearly white, and her skin soft and flawless.   
  
The hair's got to be a dye or a wig, Steed mused. Redheads are prone to freckles, so how could she possibly have no blemishes at all? Then it dawned on him: This woman is an enemy agent, trying to alter appearance so we won't recognise her! She's going to kill me if and when we're alone, probably tonight! I am, after all, the greatest British spy.  
  
Steed sped to the SPYbrary, where all the books on undercover agents were stored. He skimmed through the enemy spies, trying to find a picture of the woman out in the hallway, perhaps with different hair or eye colour. He was having no luck; he hoped his superiors would see through her disguise.  
  
The woman smiled a snake like grin, the grin a serpent uses before lashing out on its prey. She slithered over to Mother and Charles, handing them her map. "I'm Loretta Paine."  
  
They consulted their lists. Yes, Loretta Paine was one of the women they had invited. She worked for America, and this redhead in front of them did have an American accent. "Welcome, dear lady," Mother began, but Charles interrupted him.  
  
"Why are you a day early?"  
  
The woman gave a slippery smile before replying, "The airport could either get me on a plane yesterday, or three days from now. I decided I'd rather be early than late. Now do I get my room?"  
  
She seemed too eager for Mother's liking, and too evil for Charles' taste. The two sombrely nodded their heads before escorting her and her chauffer downstairs to the makeshift prison.  
  
When Steed re-entered the hall with a heavy volume, he could hear the screaming of the strange woman coming from below. He breathed a sigh of relief; Mother and Charles had discovered she was a fake. He wondered how many more spies would be enemies. He glanced at the book in his hands, which was opened to the picture of the redhead, except her hair was pale yellow and her eyes were icy blue.   
  
"She was a Russian with a pseudo-American accent. How clever!" Mother exclaimed as he came in.  
  
"Mother, I've been thinking," Steed began, "if we our nemesis' keep sneaking in, we'll never find the right woman for me. After all, a female agent may pass all the tests, yet be our enemy; and we'll never realise it until we end up dead."  
  
"From now on, anyone driving a black vehicle is strictly forbidden from entering this building," Mother declared, as if it that would rectify the problem.  
  
Discouraged but not completely daunted, Steed marched back to his room. He'd think of a way to stop this infernal testing, even if he had to commit high treason. He would not be thrown on just any lady.  
  
Chapter Four  
  
The next day, two hundred and fifty female spies arrived at the hideaway. Nineteen were disposed of after Mother and Charles noticed they came in a black vehicle. These women were all placed in the prison, so they couldn't tell the location of Steed. He was priceless commodity.  
  
Eighty-six were transported to the basement after Charles, Mother, and several workers discovered they had arrived in Volkswagen, or any other foreign car. Proper British and Americans drove the cars that were made in their own country. Patriotism proved that they were loyal-but they could be lying, Steed told himself.  
  
After that, one hundred and forty-five remained. These were taken to various rooms, where workers, male and female, measured the spies. If the ladies were too short compared to Steed's six-foot odd frame, or too plump, they were politely asked to leave. Eighty gorgeous girls were left after this procedure was done. Unbeknownst to them, they had just passed the first test.  
  
*************  
  
Trudy Peel had decided on a way to dispose of her daughter-in-law. She would take Mrs. Emma deep into the woods where no one would find them unless he or she was an expert on the land. Then Trudy would smash Emma's delicate skull so hard, she would die. If anyone found the body, they would merely assume she'd fallen and hit her head on a rock.  
  
Mrs. Trudy wasted no time in inviting her daughter on a leisurely picnic. At first, Emma had been suspicious of her usually cantankerous mother-in-law's good-natured behaviour, but she concluded that Trudy must have been earning for company. After all her boy had died, leaving her no alternative than to socialize or be alone the rest of her years.   
  
So Emma willingly agreed to join Trudy for a picnic. She attired herself in long black, leather pants that would keep her warm and protect her legs from any insect bites. For her shirt, she chose a plain, white turtleneck, which she covered with a wool coat. On her head was a thick, wool hat with a black and white pattern that resembled a target.   
  
When the women set off, the sun was blazing, and the sky was a brilliant azure. They forced smiles unto their faces and managed to have a decent conversation on the mild weather. As they approached the forest, Trudy gave a sincere grin to Emma. Soon, the annoying woman would be dead!  
  
They treaded through the damp, dark forest for nearly an hour until they were deep in the heart of it. There the two spread out blankets on the floor of the woods, which was already covered with layers of soft moss. The ladies began the formal festivities of eating. There was cucumber, watercress and egg sandwiches; recently made shepherd's pies; fresh apples that had been cooling in the underground pantry; and strawberry rhubarb tarts. To drink was the very best champagne, selected by Emma Peel herself, a connoisseur of fine wine.  
  
The duo ate silently until they were full, and then Trudy made the excuse that she was going to rest a while under a tree. She crept away, searching for a large stone to hit Emma over the head with. Alas, she only found a handful of small stones, not small enough to be pebbles but not large enough for her purposes. As Trudy Peel watched Emma collect the silverware and leftover food and place them in the picnic basket, a growl escaped from deep within her throat. In a rage she grabbed the nearest object, the champagne bottle, and sent it crashing down on Mrs. Emma Peel's head.  
  
Emma slumped forward, her body crumpling on top of one of the tarts. Strawberry smeared the front of her wool jacket, while champagne gushed down the back. The two food items would forever stain it. Trudy waited for the insolent girl to pop up and demand what had come over her, but Emma appeared to be dead.   
  
Trudy quickly removed shards of glass from the young woman's coat and buried all the incriminating evidence in the soil. She then searched every cranny of the woods for a large enough stone to place by Emma Peel in an attempt to make the murder look like an accident. In the end, she found one, grabbed it, planted it deep in the ground next to Emma, and placed the woman's head on top of it. Trudy smiled as she saw a trickle of blood escape from underneath Emma's cap.  
  
It was at this moment that she glanced up at the sky through the foliage. The sky was growing grey with thunderheads; Mrs. Trudy could not linger any longer. She panicked when she saw the food stains on the jacket, but realised that the impending rain would wash it all away. Satisfied with her work, Mrs. Trudy Peel grabbed the picnic basket and headed out of the woods.   
  
She exited the forest as the first raindrop fell. She made it back to her farm as the light drizzle turned into a torrential downpour.  
  
In the woods where the rain was pouring through the trees, Emma's body remained motionless. Water spattered her pale face, and a mixture of strawberry, champagne, and blood flowed off her clothing unto the dirt.  
  
~*~ To Be Continued ~*~ 


	3. Emma Peel aka Ethel Huffy

Chapter Five  
  
Steed sighed in relief as the eighty female agents were escorted to their bedrooms. He ran into his own room before Charles and Mother could make a superficial remark on how well the Agent tests were going.   
  
Steed had spent the remainder of the day talking to each of the respective spies. He had endured hours of suffering all for the cause, and now he felt tired and miserable. And only one test had been completed; there was still seven to go.  
  
"I am going to die before then!" he proclaimed to the mirror reflection of himself. "Either from being badgered by these women, or because Mother and Charles take that long to give out the tests." He stared at his reflection until his eyes crossed. "Emma, why can't I have you?" he asked softly.  
  
**********  
  
When Emma came to, she and her clothes were drenched from the rain, but the downpour did not concern her as much as the blood on her head. Mrs. Peel gently touched her head until she discovered a gash in the back. She would need stitches, and she probably had a concussion. But she was alive; her heavily padded cap had saved her life.  
  
Emma knew she could not wait in the woods until someone found her. She forced herself to stand up, and immediately a wave of dizziness passed over her. Emma Peel almost fell to the ground, but she grabbed unto a tree limb in time. Her stomach sloshed, and she vomited. Yes, she definitely had a concussion.  
  
Emma slowly treaded through the woods, water pelting her from all sides. She gingerly held pressure to her head to stop the bleeding, while she clutched her stomach. Fortunately, the bleeding subsided. As she walked, she glanced down at the ground to make sure she didn't step in a rut and go plummeting.   
  
It was at this time that she noticed blood, strawberry jam, and something else on her coat. The rain had almost washed out the stain, but there as still a tiny trace. On further investigation, Mrs. Peel discovered that the third stain was the champagne she'd selected for the picnic. Suddenly, she realised what had occurred. Trudy had smacked her from behind with the bottle of champagne. It had been an attempted murder, and if Emma hadn't thought of taking her hat, she would have died. Her spy instincts had saved her again.  
  
Emma Peel, instead of being outraged at Trudy's behaviour, said dryly, "Really Trudy Peel, wasting that champagne-and it was such a good year, too."  
  
Now Emma knew what she had to do. She had to get out of the forest, get medical assistance for her injuries, and then move far away from Trudy Peel. Emma had no conclusive evidence that Trudy had tried to murder her, so Mrs. Trudy could not be arrested. But how she wished she could place that demented woman in a jail cell!  
  
Emma stumbled through the briar and the bramble, groping her way out, but it seemed in vain. She was growing exhausted, and her vision was blurring, partly from the sweat and rain that was pouring into her eyes, and partly because she was still dizzy. After what seemed an interminable duration, she found herself standing on the lawn of a large estate.  
  
Trembling from exertion and excitement, she knocked on the door. "Please have someone live here, please, please!" Mrs. Peel prayed to whatever cosmic force would hear her.  
  
A corpulent man in a wheelchair opened the door, took one look at her and, instead of ushering her in to seek medical aid, demanded to know what her business was.  
  
Mrs. Peel was taken aback by this rude behaviour. "I-I need a doctor! I hit my head, and when I came to it was pouring. I got lost in the woods, trying to find my way out. I need stitches, so if you could let me come in . . ."  
  
"This is highly irregular," the fat man began.  
  
Another peculiar man with an amazingly sour expression on his face stepped up to the door. "Look, we don't know who you are, or what you want with us."  
  
"I've stated my business!" Emma cried in despair. "I need to get stitches! I don't expect you two to perform the task, but if you could phone a doctor-"  
  
"We have a doctor on the premises," the disagreeable looking man said. "I suppose he could see to it that you received the proper medical aid." He admitted Mrs. Peel into the manor.  
  
Up in his bedroom, Steed heard the raised voices coming from the front hall. Afraid that it might be a deadly intruder, he hurried down the stairs. When he got to the first landing, he looked over the banister at the foyer below. He couldn't believe what he saw. Emma Peel was standing there, battered and bloodied but very much alive. To make certain he wasn't dreaming, Steed pinched himself with all the strength he could produce. A red mark and a throb in his arm indicated that he was not asleep.  
  
As calmly as he could, he descended the rest of the stairway. He did not know why Mrs. Peel was at the secret ministry headquarters, but he did know that as soon as she failed one test, she would be out of his life forever.   
  
"We'll have you stitched up and find you some new clothes," Mother was saying.  
  
"Then we'll take you to the basement to rest. It's the only available room right now. We're having a business convention." Charles escorted Emma toward the infirmary.  
  
Steed gasped as he realised that his superiors thought Emma was an enemy agent. He had to save her! "Mrs. Peel," he began loudly and cheerfully, "I'm so glad you could make it to the tests."  
  
"What are you doing?" Mother hissed to Steed. "You're giving everything away, and to a compete stranger."  
  
"Mrs. Peel is neither a stranger, nor an enemy agent, are you Mrs. Peel?" Steed replied.  
  
Emma didn't have any notion as to what was going on, but she figured it would be best if she answered Steed. "No, I'm not . . . either of those things." She wondered what Mr. Steed was doing with these strange men.  
  
"Mrs. Peel is just a little late, and must have run into some trouble," John Steed continued.  
  
"Yes, that's what I was trying to tell these two men-" Emma was cut short by Mother.  
  
"We have no Mrs. Peel on our lists." Mother was scanning the papers quickly and efficiently.  
  
"That's because Mrs. Emma Peel is my pseudonym," Emma explained. "You know how it is when you're famous, or infamous, like me. You have to take precautions for your safety." She pointed to the gash on her head. "Just look what happened tonight while I was getting to your estate. Some hoodlum . . ."  
  
"Probably an enemy spy," Steed added.  
  
  
  
" . . . Jumped me and severely injured me."  
  
Charles and Mother looked unconvinced until Steed finished the story with the comment, "Her real name is Ethel Huffy."  
  
"Ethel Huffy?" Emma repeated in repulsion. She quickly changed her attitude and said, "Yes, Ethel Huffy is my name!" She flashed her winning smile, hoping it would have some effect on the sombre men in front of her.  
  
"Ethel Huffy, the renowned woman of counter-counter espionage?" Charles' eyes grew round with astonishment.  
  
Mother was not so easily convinced. Outwardly he declared, "We'll just have to make room for you, Ms. Huffy." Under his breath he muttered, "And if you aren't really a spy, you won't get through the tests. At least I know you're not an enemy agent. Steed would have never defended you if you were."  
  
  
  
Mrs. Peel was soon stitched up and taken to a dressing room where she was measured "for new clothes." In reality, she was being measure to see if she was the perfect size and shape for John Steed. Naturally, she passed the first test with no difficulties.   
  
  
  
Weary from the day's events, Emma Peel was almost dragged to her bed chamber. As soon as she was alone in her bed, she fell into a deep slumber. Unknown to her, a sleeping gas began seeping in through the air vents, part of the second test.   
  
~*~ To Be Continued ~*~ 


	4. Emma Aces Tests 2, 3, 4, 5, & 6

Chapter Six  
  
Emma awoke the next morning feeling groggy and dizzy, as if she had a hangover. She recalled the unpleasant encounter with the obese men named Mother and Charles, and of how Mr. Steed had come to her rescue. She remembered how she had received multiple stitches for her wound and had been escorted to her room, where she was lying at the moment.  
  
Mrs. Peel felt numb all over her body, and her mouth felt dry and itchy, like there was a cotton ball lodged in her throat. At first she thought she was numb because she had been sleeping in an awkward position, but when she tried to sit up, she found she couldn't! Frantically, she tried to hop out of bed, but she was quickly dragged down by some strange force. She glanced at herself and discovered she was covered by a heavy blanket. She squirmed out of the coverlet and gazed down at herself once again only to have her worst fears confirmed. She was bound with heavy hemp rope from head to foot! And the reason she felt cotton in her mouth was because there actually was!   
  
Who are these lunatics? Why have they bound and gagged me? How can I get out? All these thoughts flitted through her alarmed brain. Slowly, she inhaled and exhaled until she had resumed her collected manner. I can get out of this predicament, and I can do it without panicking! Emma told herself. First things, how did my captors tie me up?   
  
Emma noted that the rope completely wound around her legs, fastened securely at the ankles. Her arms were tied by a different rope and had been pulled to the back of her. This rope had been fastened at the wrists. Emma Peel tried to loosen the bindings, but the ropes had been tied into several knots that she knew not how to get out of.   
  
I need something sharp to cut my bonds, Mrs. Emma mused. She surveyed the room and was not at all surprised when she could not find anything to sever the rope. This villains might be insane, but they are still smart enough to bind a girl and keep her bound. Emma's brown eyes swept over the bedroom again until they rested on the lamp on her bedside table.  
  
Still groggy, she attempted to swing her tied legs over the side of her bed and kick the lamp. Her plan almost failed when halfway through the procedure she fell over on her side. But she managed to wriggle into sitting position again and continue with her task. Emma was quite satisfied when she kicked the lamp and it sailed onto the wood floor, shattering into little fragments.   
  
Painstakingly, she inched off her bed and onto the floor. Still sitting, she half crawled, half writhed across the floor to one of the broken pieces. Gingerly, she edged the fragment into her hands and began sawing. Soon her arms were free from the bondage. She yanked the gag out and coughed several times until the phlegm returned to her mouth. Then she scrutinised her leg's bindings and decided the loops were strange versions of sailor knots. Emma was able pick these knots out without the aid of the broken piece of lamp.  
  
Once this was completed, she slipped into a comfortable paint suit and marched rigidly downstairs. She had to confront these madmen before they endangered her life-and the lives of countless others-even more. Little did she realise she had passed the second test.  
  
**********  
  
Steed sat agitatedly at the end of a long breakfast table, unable to eat a morsel. He wondered if Emma would get out of her bondage. She had been injured, and hurt victims were more susceptible to hangovers from the sleeping gas that had poured into every agent's room the previous night. He worried for her well-being and prayed she would not hate him for putting her through all this trouble. It was the only way they could be together-she'd have to understand!  
  
He was about to force himself to take a bite of his cold toast when the lady agents started pouring into the dining room. Some were still bleary-eyed from the gas, others were infuriated from being tied up, some were petrified at what they deemed "an insane procedure," and two ladies were relatively calm. One of those ladies was Emma, who outwardly appeared serene over the whole incident, but inwardly was angry.   
  
The other was a tall, voluptuous girl of twenty-one with short, brunette hair that curled around her ears and the palest blue eyes Steed had ever seen. These eyes concealed the fear she really felt and her posture indicated that she was alert, even though she felt rather dopey from the gas. She batted her long eyelashes at Steed as if to say, "I love you, and where you goeth, I go . . . eth."  
  
Steed didn't know whether to scream or roll his eyes at her pathetic emotions. All he knew was he did not want a woman who would cling to him like he was her life support. He wanted an independent lady who knew she needed him but did not want him every second of her life. Emma, please pass the next test! he silently entreated her.  
  
Emma didn't know what to expect after the last dangerous business, but she sat at the dining room table when she was told. She frowned when Charles entered the room and began an ominous speech.  
  
"Sixteen agents will not be joining you women for breakfast. They could not get out of their bonds and had to be rescued. They obviously were not fit enough for the rigours of being a spy and were asked to leave." There was nervous titter at Charles comment. No girl knew if she was laughing at the stupidity of the other spies, or if she was giggling to ease the tension.  
  
Charles continued, "There are sixty-five of you remaining. Remember, dangers can come at any time during the day, or night, so be prepared!" He managed to half smile as he added, "Now eat your breakfast; you need to keep up your strength."  
  
The lady agents eagerly complied this order, chattering to on another and occasionally glancing at the end of the table where Steed sat. At Charles' command John exited the room, causing quite a stir from the ladies. Some groaned at having the legendary John Steed leave their presence. The pale eyed twenty-one year-old moaned the loudest.  
  
Emma was disappointed at Steed's departure, but she wasn't about to let it show. At least I know what's going on, even if most of these ladies don't, she consoled herself. These women are all spies unknowingly taking a test to see who's the best. I wonder what the winner gets?   
  
It didn't taken long to learn from bits of gossip that the women had congregated at this mansion for the express purpose of becoming John Steed's new partner. Emma smiled at the prospect of becoming the certified partner of Mr. Steed. She was determined to beat all these professionals, especially the dewy-eyed one that kept glancing at the door in hopes of Steed's return.  
  
Emma scowled and took a sip of her water. She realised how thirsty she was and gulped the rest down. She needed more to drink to cure her thirst.   
  
As if on cue, ten waiters came out of a backroom, presumably the kitchen. They each had trays with silver covers over them. In perfect sync with one another, they removed the trays to reveal gleaming pistols. Emma, along with fifty-five women either subdued the men, or leapt out of the way of the guns. The other nine shrieked and ran right into the aim of the pistols.  
  
It looked as if pandemonium would reign supreme when an irate voice bellowed, "Stop that infernal screaming!" Charles stepped into view, glaring angrily at the women who had been shrieking. "You nine are dispelled from the competition. How you passed spy school is an enigma to me and the rest at this mansion."  
  
The nine spies shamefacedly left the room and the estate. Charles encouraged the remainder of agents to resume their meal. The women quietly did, not realising the third test was over.   
  
Chapter Seven   
  
Later that morning at eleven, Emma and the others were served tea and crumpets in the garden. The tea was scorching hot and tasted bitter, almost as if it had been recently washed and not all the soap had been rinsed out. Emma glanced around to see if anyone else found the tea disgusting.   
  
Several agents were pushing the drink aside, while others were dumping in spoonfuls of sugar to cover the taste. As it was, every female was busily talking to her neighbour, all except Emma and the young agent. Mrs. Peel mulled over the predicament of the peculiar tea and came to a startling revelation. Her spy instincts told her that the tea must be drugged or poisoned!   
  
She quickly asked for a glass of water to delude the affects of the tea. She had only had a sip of the ghastly drink, but she couldn't take any chances. After drinking the water, she felt assured that she would not suffer for her mistake. She leaned back in her chair and enjoyed the rest of the snack.  
  
After most of the women were finished with their repast, the first spy slumped over in her chair, fast asleep. Four others quickly joined her. Emma began to regret the fact that she hadn't warned them, but she realised that if she was to win the contest, she had to be aggressive.  
  
Three more crumpled over in a deep slumber, and then there was a discomfiting silence.   
  
Mother wheeled into the enclosure, snapping his fingers. Ten guards obeyed his summons and dragged the sleeping ladies out to their cars. "Well, there are now only forty-eight of you spies left! Watch your step, or you will join your imprudent friends." With that harsh remark, Mother rolled out of the chamber.  
  
"Mother always was a grim and candid fellow," came a dulcet voice. Emma whirled around to discover the girl who had been ogling Steed. "I'm Tara King, Agent 69." The young women extended her arm for a handshake.  
  
Emma laughed quietly at the spy's number but shook her hand. "I'm Mrs. Emma-oops, perhaps I should use my real name. I'm Ethel Huffy."  
  
Miss King gazed at her in reverence. "I've heard ever so much about you-and Steed." She blushed, something that flattered her countenance.  
  
Emma chose to ignore the infatuated girl's behaviour. "Do you have any clew as to what is going on?"  
  
Tara licked her lips and said, "I was told that Steed was going to choose his new partner, but I believe that was a lie. I think we agents are being taken for a ride."  
  
"We have to pass a series of tests; tests that will determine who his new partner is," Emma concluded.   
  
The two women smiled at each other, happy to have found someone of the same intellect to talk to. Emma had to admit Miss King was extremely amiable. Too bad Tara will be left in the cold when I become Steed's next associate, Emma thought.  
  
Emma continued to converse with Agent 69 through the course of the day. At one o'clock the two ladies ate lunch together in the lounge. There they spent a pleasant ten minutes discussing various foods. They were interrupted when a handsome man Emma recognised as one of the guards approached them.   
  
"Do you know what's going on?" he asked.  
  
"You mean how were being tested?" Emma replied.  
  
The man nodded before adding, "I could tell you what the remaining quizzes are. It wouldn't cost much."  
  
Tara looked as if she was about to speak, but Emma cocked her head ever so slightly as an indication for her to remain quiet. "Thank you, but I'm sure we can pass the tests without your assistance," she retorted coolly.  
  
The man shrugged before wandering over to another unsuspecting female.   
  
Tara watched him for several minutes before addressing Mrs. Peel. "Do you think that was a test to see if we would cheat or not?"  
  
"Indubitably! I wonder how many hapless females will actually agree to that guard's offer?" Emma crossed her arms, deep in meditation.  
  
Tara did not seem to notice her friend's state, for she cried, "I would have been out of the competition if not for your fast thinking! How superior you are in knowledge and spy skills, Ms. Huffy!" Her eyes were filled with gratitude and approbation.  
  
Emma was getting quite annoyed at Tara's admiring eyes. She looked at Steed and Mrs. Peel exactly the same way!  
  
Thirty minutes later, Emma and Tara were informed that thirteen spies had fallen for the guards' tricks and had been eliminated from the contest. The fifth test was done, and thirty-five were left.  
  
~*~ To Be Continued ~*~  
  
Note: My sister and my website is up and running again after being down for more than two months! Have a look. Hopefully some new features will be added soon. 


	5. Who Will Win

Chapter Eight  
  
Steed surveyed the remaining agents and gave an involuntary shudder. That girl with the bewitchingly light blue eyes was still part of the competition. Would she ever get out, or was he destined to have that immature trained agent instead of the competent amateur Emma?  
  
As he deliberated over this matter, the sixth test began. "We are going to see how well you ladies pay attention to instructions!" Charles began to the throng of nervous women.  
  
"Our men," Mother nodded to the guards, "are going to show you how to load a rifle. We want you to follow their methods *implicitly*! If you do one step slightly different from the way the guards did it, you will be removed from the contest!"  
  
"Just as the test before taught you how you should never trust strangers, this test will show the importance of following instructions. In the real world of espionage, one slip, or one time of disobeying, could cost your life." Charles' ending filled the prospective partners with apprehension.  
  
One by one, the female spies were led into a room where no sounds could be heard on the outside even if you were standing next to the door. Emma and Tara waited patiently for their turn as each spy exited the chamber dejectedly.   
  
One lady whined, "I followed their instructions to the letter but I'm still out of the game!"  
  
Another wailed, "It's a trick; nobody can pass this test!"  
  
Tara gulped, Emma gritted her teeth, and they waited in their line.   
  
Finally, a smiling woman exited the room. "I almost didn't make it," she declared as she passed the queue, "but I figured it out in the nick of time."  
  
All at once it was Emma's turn. She stepped cautiously into the room, examining every face and item. A man stood in the centre, a rifle in his right hand and earmuffs in his left. Several targets were set up opposite the wall and door that Emma was standing by. She stepped up to the man and tried to smile nonchalantly.  
  
"Good afternoon, ma'am," the man said pleasantly. "I'm going to show you how to load this rifle and fire it! I want you to do exactly what I do. If you want, I can repeat the procedure once."  
  
Emma nodded her head in understanding. The fellow asked her for her name, and she promptly told him it was Ethel Huffy. The man seemed genuinely impressed by her name, evidently honoured at her presence, and even stood taller as he began the procedure.  
  
He cleared his throat nervously then placed the earmuffs on his head. He loaded the weapon, pulled it close to his shoulder, and then fired at the targets three times. He lowered the rifle, pulled his earmuffs off, and said, "It's you're turn, Ms. Huffy."  
  
Emma began to grow anxious. He had done everything as normally as can be, but most of the ladies who had been expelled had claimed that. There had to be a catch! "Could you repeat the process?" Emma whispered almost inaudibly.   
  
"I wouldn't think you'd need me to repeat it, Ms. Huffy," he began condescendingly, "but if you insist. Ahem!" The man did the procedure over again, exactly the same as before. He stared at her expectantly, and everything seemed to be in slow motion.  
  
Slowly, Emma went over the steps in her head. She did it twice, three times, but still she couldn't see any hidden tricks. It seemed a decade since she'd entered the room, and she sensed that the man was feeling the same way. Sighing in defeat, she reached for the gun, placing it in her right hand. The earmuffs she grabbed with her left hand.  
  
Then, she mulled over the process again. Mrs. Peel had never been one for crying, but she was on the verge of tears. Here she was, supposedly an expert at counter-counter espionage, and she couldn't even follow the directions! The man had been amazed and uneasy when she had told him her name, thinking she was the paragon of all female spies. He was going to be disappointed, maybe even angered, when he discovered the truth.  
  
She could still see him, clearing his throat edgily before placing the earmuffs on his head . . . Then it struck her like a bolt of lighting. He had cleared his throat both times before using the rifle! That was the catch!  
  
Abruptly, Emma resumed her tranquil mien. She cleared her throat loudly, pulled the earmuffs over her head, and loaded the gun. It was simple to use the weapon, and the three bullets she fired embedded themselves neatly in three separate bullseyes. She lowered the rifle, smiling smugly. "Was that satisfactory, sir?"  
  
The man nodded, dazed at her sudden change of manner.  
  
Emma marched confidently out of the room, brushing by Mother and Charles. "She passed the test, confound her," Mother growled.  
  
"And there's only two to go!" Charles added. They glared at the retreating figure of Emma Peel.  
  
Emma and Tara both passed the most difficult test to date. However, seventeen did not, and only eighteen agents remained.  
  
***********  
  
Emma was relieved that the last ordeal was over, but she was afraid of what might be the next test. All through the afternoon, she kept a weary eye out for anything suspicious, but it seemed as if the tests were done for the day. She and the remaining agents suffered through a tense supper, and then Mrs. Peel decided to take a stroll outdoors in the twilight.   
  
She breathed in the fresh air, remembering her life on the Peel farm. It was unfair that she could not visit the place ever again because of the crazed Trudy. If she stepped foot on the farm, Trudy was bound to kill her.  
  
Emma would have continued her grousing if it hadn't been for the four men that stepped out of the shadows and surrounded her. When there was less than a foot of space between her and the men, it became quite evident that their purpose was to attack her.  
  
Emma went into a fighting stance, daring each to make the first move. One man threw a fist out in an attempt to punch her, but Mrs. Emma grabbed the arm and flipped the fellow on his back. The second man grabbed her by the waist, while the third tried to choke her. The fourth man helped the first man to his feet.  
  
Emma struggled to remain conscious as Number Three strangled her. She brought her knees up into Three's stomach then pushed her elbows into Number Two's chest. The elbow manoeuvre had little effect on Two, but the knees did injure Three. The third man let go of her neck to clutch his stomach. Number Two gripped her waist even tighter, and Emma realised she might never get out of his hold. Quickly, as if she was bowing, Emma bent forward at her waist. The swift movement caught her nemesis off guard and he toppled over her onto the ground. Emma did not want him to recover, so she kicked the man until he lost consciousness.   
  
With one man down, she faced the rest of her opponents. The third man was still clutching his stomach in pain, so Emma directed her attention to him first. With Number One and Number Four trying to grab her, she flung herself at Number Three. She and the third man tumbled to the ground. She was about to raise her hand to strike when she noticed Number Three was not moving. He had hit his head on a rock, one of the disadvantages of fighting outdoors.  
  
Emma turned to her last two adversaries, venom in her usually lovely eyes. She noted a tree branch hanging low over the grounds. She advanced towards it, and when the two men followed her, whipped the bough into their faces.   
  
The first man had already been tossed to the ground and smacked in the face. He obviously was growing tired, but the fourth man was relatively undamaged. Emma decided to finish off Number One before defeating Number Four. Mrs. Peel lunged at the first man, who responded by knocking her off her feet. He then came at her, intent on physically abusing her. Emma calmly tripped him with her legs. He landed on his face, and Emma laid him out with one of her powerful Karate chops.  
  
She was about to rise to her feet, when the fourth and final man clasped her legs in his brawny hands. He proceeded to drag her across the lawn, laughing sadistically as he went. Emma suppressed a moan as her entire backside rubbed against grass, dirt, and pebbles. Mrs. Peel forced herself to ignore the searing pain and concentrate on her opponent. She observed that he meant to drag her over a gnarled log! A sharp branch projected from the top. If she went over it, the wood might stick into her back. With all the strength she possessed, she grabbed on to a tuff of grass with both hands.  
  
Her adversary was not expecting Emma to hold back and, consequently, lost his balance. He screamed as he fell onto the log, the sharp limb going through his stomach. Emma turned a squeamish eye away before standing.  
  
She stumbled back to the mansion where she encountered Charles and Mother. They exchanged weary glances before announcing, "Fighting four men was the seventh test. You aced it."  
  
Emma barely acknowledged them as she staggered upstairs. She did not even murmur her "hellos" to Miss King when she passed her in the hall. Emma was sick--sick of all the misery these ministry men were causing just to find a suitable partner for Steed.  
  
She'd killed one of the men she had fought tonight, and she wondered how many more had died at the hands of the female spies. Emma needn't have worried, for only one other woman passed the test. And that woman had used unconventional, almost ridiculous means, thus not killing anyone. That woman was Tara King.  
  
Neither woman realised there was only one more test left. Who would be the winner?  
  
~*~To Be Continued~*~  
  
Note: I survived my bout of writer's block. Hurray! 


	6. Happily Ever After

Chapter Nine  
  
Emma was so exhausted from the day's excursions that she tumbled into her bed. She expected sleep to come instantaneously, but something kept her awake. After a restless hour, Emma decided she needed a drink to soothe her nerves. There was a portable bar in her room, and Mrs. Peel poured herself a glass of sherry. She sipped it slowly, savouring it.   
  
Yes, she was tense because of the fight she had had in the gardens. The sherry would unravel her nerves enough so she could sleep-or so she thought. But once back under her bed covers, Emma was wide awake again.   
  
You've got to de-stress, she told herself, but her body refused to listen. Emma began to think it was more than her nerves that were agitated; it was her spy instincts flaring up. What had alerted her? Emma lay absolutely still, drinking in every sight in the dim room and every sound, even if it was almost inaudible. As the minutes ticked by, Emma realised that was exactly what was keeping her awake: the ticking of the clock.  
  
What was so disturbing over a simple alarm clock? They were supposed to tick and then wake you up at the appointed time. Emma sighed, rolled over on her side, and shut her eyes.  
  
TICK . . . TOCK . . . TICK . . . TOCK.  
  
Emma groaned and ignored the noise.   
  
TICK . . . TOCK . . .  
  
Mrs. Peel tried to let the simple sound lure her to sleep, but her action was in vain. Emma glanced at the alarm clock and was dismayed to find another hour had gone by. She was getting irritable from sleep deprivation, and still the minutes relentlessly wore on.  
  
After another hour had passed, Emma listened to the noise from the clock again. This time she heard another fast ticking sound, one that seemed to be counting milliseconds.   
  
TICK, TICK, TICK . . .  
  
Alarm clocks need not have millisecond hands. They counted minutes and seconds, that was all, so what was making that clamour? Emma knew that stopwatches frequently had milliseconds hands, but what would a stopwatch be doing in her room?   
  
Emma went through a list of items that used a timer. Stopwatches. bombs, ovens . . . wait a minute! What if there is a bomb in this room, ready to explode at any moment? Emma thought frantically.  
  
She snatched the clock from its nightstand but was aghast when she did not discover any strange package that was undoubtedly a bomb connected to the clock. She bounded out of bed, switched on her lights, and began examining every corner of her bedroom. If there was a bomb in here, she would soon have it out!  
  
When every inch of the chamber had been scrutinised, Emma let out a cry of dismay. She still heard the ticking, but she couldn't find the bomb. Another uneventful hour had slipped away; Emma climbed back into bed. She bolted upright a moment later and was listening keenly for the sound.  
  
With an exasperated shake of the head, she realised the TICK, TICK, TICKing had been coming from the clock the entire time! The alarm clock was the actual bomb! With the clock in her hand, Emma sprang from her bed. She opened a window and hurled the clock as far as she could out it.   
  
Expecting the bomb to go off on impact, Emma dove for cover. Not another sound was heard. Mrs. Peel peered out the window, surprised when she discovered that the clock was lying harmlessly on the grass. Shrugging, Emma collapsed onto her bed.  
  
The noise was gone, that was all that mattered. She was asleep in seconds.  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
Emma awoke the next morning, feeling disgruntled and tired. That fake bomb was the most sickening joke she'd ever witnessed. After getting dressed, she trudged downstairs, ready to demand what was the matter with Mother and Charles.   
  
Tara was aroused from her sleep by the sound of her alarm clock. Glancing at the clock, she observed it was seven in the morning, an hour earlier than what she had sent the alarm for. Gasping, Tara noticed a red sign sticking out of the top of the brass clock. In bold, black words was the message, "If this was a real bomb, you would be dead- Mother and Charles."  
  
This fake bomb had undoubtedly been another test! Tara shuddered as the idea that she had failed it sunk into her head. She could only hope that Ethel Huffy had also been unsuccessful. Then there would be a rematch!   
  
Tara King scurried downstairs, feeling rather cheery considering the latest events. She entered the dining room for breakfast and was appalled at what she saw. Ms. Huffy, her hair in upheaval and with dark circles under the eyes, was shouting at Charles and Mother! Didn't Ethel realise she was jeopardising her chance of winning by yelling at her superiors? Steed stood nearby, his face as placid as ever. Tara shook her head; Ethel Huffy had ruined it.  
  
As the notion that she had won entered her brain, Tara exclaimed, "Isn't this a wonderful morning?" Four pairs of eyes fastened on her. Tara decided this would not be the time to gloat over her victory and asked sweetly, "Did you have a bad night, Ms. Huffy?"  
  
"You could say that," replied Emma coolly.   
  
"Didn't you have a terrible night as well?" Steed asked. He cringed as the girl with the pale eyes grinned in return.  
  
"No, I slept marvellously, except for the fake bomb threat."   
  
Mother and Charles simultaneously nodded, and two guards entered with clocks in their hands. "This was found in your room, was it not, Miss King?" demanded Charles.   
  
Tara saw the ghastly alarm clock from her room. "Yes, that's the wretched beast." She noted that the other clock was dirty and dent. "The clean one is mine."  
  
"Yes, I chucked mine out the window last night," Emma said shortly.  
  
Tara gasped. The strain of all the tests must have made Ethel Huffy insane!   
  
"I thought it was a bomb," explained Mrs. Peel.  
  
Mother and Charles both grimaced before Mother declared, "Tara, you did not hear the distinctive sound of a bomb at all last night. What kind of a partner for Steed would you make? If there had been a real bomb, you would be dead. I suggest you go back to training school and take a refresher course in recognising weapon sounds."  
  
Tara flushed as his words registered.  
  
Charles continued, "Ms. Huffy, your spy instincts alerted you to the noise and you 'saved your own life,' so to speak."  
  
Both of the bosses concluded, "Therefore, you will be John Steed's new partner."  
  
"No, this can't be happening!" moaned Tara, as two guards dragged her from the estate.  
  
For the first time since the tests had begun, Steed broke into a wild grin. Despite her lack of sleep, Emma felt wide awake and extremely happy. She smiled back at Steed.  
  
"We're very impressed by your talents, Ms. Huffy," Mother admitted.  
  
"Yes, even if you weren't Ethel Huffy and were just a talented amateur, we feel you'd be worthy of being Steed's partner," agreed Charles.  
  
"Gentlemen, if this is true, then would like to make a confession." Emma flashed her winning smile before announcing, "I am not Ethel Huffy. I am Mrs. Emma Peel, widow to test-pilot Peter Peel and, if I'm not mistaken, Steed's new partner."  
  
"If you'll excuse us, gentlemen, we have work to do," Steed added, escorting Emma from the room.  
  
"Well, I'm dashed!" Charles uncharacteristically exclaimed.  
  
"Humph," Mother rejoined.  
  
Epilogue  
  
Emma was Steed's best partner. No case was too difficult to solve, no villain too hard to defeat. The twosome soon became inseparable.  
  
Tara King graduated from spy school again and became a successful spy. An infamous criminal kidnapped her once, but Tara outwitted him and escaped. Unfortunately, she fell in love with her captor and tricked him into marrying her, much to his chagrin. She decided from then on that her life-long goal was to reform criminals; so she quit the spy business to accomplish this. Her husband was less than enthusiastic, especially since she used him as her best example when teaching her pupils.  
  
Steed's first partner Catherine Gale married a doctor and moved to Africa where she was involved in several tribal wars, monsoons, and other natural catastrophes. Through it all she kept her composure and never stopped helping the people.  
  
Trudy Peel never saw Emma again and assumed she really had killed her daughter-in-law. Trudy then went to the Amazonian Jungle in search of her son, who she refused to admit was dead. She and Peter Peel were never heard from again.  
  
Despite minor drawbacks, everything was as blissful as could be for Steed and Peel, and after many years they decided to get married so they would never be separated. So it is only befitting to say:   
  
And They Lived Happily Ever After.   
  
~*~ The End ~*~ 


End file.
